Christmas
by Nittedhat
Summary: Harry's first Christmas at Hogwarts was filled with excitement. But what about everyone elses?


**Arthur and Molly**

A soft crackling sound filled the living room, coming from the big fireplace. On the mantel had been hung nine big Christmas stockings, which would soon be filled with pastries, small packages and bright coloured ribbons. Above them stood several framed pictures, all buzzing with movement. The one on the far left was Arthur, sitting by his worktable in the shed. He was fiddling with something that looked like a heap of metal, bending it and poking it with his wand. Every now and then he looked up, and smiled softly at whoever was taking the picture. Next to him was a picture of Molly. She was standing outside the Burrow, with a big smile on her face, her round body hugged by a thin, flowing summer dress. On top off her head was a big hat, adorned with big white daises. The picture was taken several years ago. After that came a picture of a very flashily dressed Bill. Some strands of hair was sweeping around his face as they were moved by the wind, it seemed he had been persuaded to at least put his long hair in a ponytail , and a smile curled the sides of his mouth. Behind him was Gringotts Bank. The picture seemed to have been taken his first day on the job.  
Besides Bill was a picture of a widely grinning Charlie. Dressed all in Quidditch robes, he stood with his broom in his hand, beaming at the photographer. Behind him was, to those who knew it, one of the biggest official Quidditch stadiums in England. There was a sign, and if you leaned in close you could read it. "National Quidditch Team" and under it, "Try Outs."  
A thin silver frame surrounded Percy's photo. He was looking very sober in it, the glasses freshly polished and not even a hint of a smile on his face. On his chest gleamed a big badge with the letter 'P' on it. But even though he wasn't smiling, there was a not so tiny hint of pride in his eyes.  
Beside the sober picture of Percy was two frames mirroring each other and welded together in the middle. In each of the frames were Fred and George. However, which was which was impossible to tell, since they kept switching frames with big grins on their faces. Sometimes the picture of Percy looked sternly at them.  
A gold frame of Ron was standing next to them. He was smiling a crooked smile, standing outside of Kings Cross. They had taken the picture right before he'd met Harry Potter, and his ears were glowing with embarrassment. But still, he seemed very happy about it.  
Last, but not in any way least, was Ginny. Her frame was a round one she'd picked out herself from a little muggle shop Arthur had taken to her once, and since she had refused to leave without the frame he had bought it, offering the very confused woman at the counter ten times it' worth. Ginny had happily thrown garden gnomes as payment for a whole year. She was grinning madly in the picture. One finger was pulling down her lip to show off the little black gap in the row of tiny teeth where one tooth had fallen out; sometimes waving a little as if she thought people weren't paying large enough attention to the importance of the matter.  
These were not the only pictures of the Weasley family standing on the mantel. They had been crammed in there, loads of them, some in frames as tiny as a matchbox, one quite large, and a whole bunch of regular sized ones.  
Arthur let his finger slide across the glass covering up the picture of Ron; the boy's ears glowed even redder. The corner of his mouth twitched. It wasn't unlike Ronald to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas; he had almost known that he was going to. Fred and George always stayed, as had Percy and Bill. Only Charlie had come home once, in his fifth year. He had never said it out loud, but Bill had written a long letter explaining how a girl at school had broken his heart. Bill never told them who it was, but the way Charlie's ears had turned tomato-red every time the Tonk's family was mentioned, he had his thoughts about it.  
Molly was sitting in her big arm chair behind him. She was knitting, as she always was this time of year. Five sweaters lay finished beside her, folded in a neat pile. On the other side was a basket, the size of a small bathtub filled with balls of yarn. On the very top of the magic stabilized mountain were five yarn balls in maroon. The light from the fire danced up on her gracefully. Her eyes were fixated at the knitting, her forehead completely smooth and relaxed. Some curls lay around her face, making her look close to angelic. He would never tell her that of course. She had always given him such sour looks when he tried to compliment her, and lately, or for the last 20 years, she had complained about looking old, pulling and tugging at her own face in front of the mirror when she thought he wasn't watching. But to him she had been, was, and would for all future be, the most beautiful woman alive.  
Every day he thanked Merlin that she loved him, and that he was allowed to love her.  
Something told her that she was being watched. Molly looked up from the knitting, and saw that Arthur was looking at her with _that look. _It was a very special sort of look. It was piercing, but at the same time soft and warm. It was filled with admiration and passion so intense that it burnt. It had glimpses and hints of laughter and "God-You're-such-a-lovely-idiot". But mostly the Look consisted of pure love. There wasn't any better way to describe it, and there wasn't any one in the world that used the Look than Arthur (Molly would continue on thinking this for some years, until the day she saw her son using it while looking at a bushy haired girl walking away in a scowl).  
"What?"  
She tried to sound annoyed, but it was hard to do when he looked at her like that. He was right through it, and smiled at her.  
"Ronald's is it?"  
Molly looked down at the half-finished maroon sweater in her lap. A smile twitched in the corner of her mouth, and she stroke the knitting softly.  
"Yes."  
Arthur stood by the mantle and watched her as she pulled a little on the fabric, and then looked at him again. With a soft laughter, he spoke again.  
"He really does hate maroon doesn't he?"  
Molly responded with the same sort of soft laughter.  
"He does... But that's the colour I picked for him, and I'm sticking with it. I've never changed any of the others colours."  
"True... But none of the others had _maroon_."  
Her head popped up in a way that made him feel like he'd said something bad. But then she started laughing, a high laugh that echoed through the living room, which she quickly stifled, Ginny was sleeping up stairs. Tiny tears sparkled in her eyes as she pressed her hand against her mouth. Snorting with suppressed laughter she took it away, and coughed.  
"You're right. You are. But I've already decided, and that's that."  
"Yes dear."  
Arthur grinned. He had learned fairly quickly that disagreeing with Molly over such important matters could hurt you very much.  
Suddenly he raised an eyebrow. Molly had picked up the knitting again. She was half finished, so he could see the front of the shirt down to where half the' R' should be. But there was none. He walked over, peeking, but there was no' R' on the other side either. Surprised, he blinked. The letter was the most important bit of the sweater. It was dreadful, cheesy, and wonderful.  
"Why is there no letter?"  
Molly's cheeks turned slightly pink. She'd hoped he wouldn't notice it, or at least not mention it if he did. But it was very like Arthur to do both those things.  
"I just thought" she began slowly, "that maybe, as it is his first year, he doesn't want a jumper. I mean, he's always talking about having to live up to what his brothers have done, and I thought he might want to exchange it with someone else and then there can't be a big 'R' on it, and-"  
She stopped speaking. Arthur had walked up to her, and crouched in front of her with a soft smile on his face. His hands, big, dry, warm and safe, were lying on top of hers, cradling them.  
"Make an 'R' Molly."  
Blushing even more than before, she bit her lower lip, and looked away. This was very typical of him, trying to fix it all, trying to make her feel better when she finally told him something she'd been dwelling on for a long time. It was his most annoying and wonderful trait.  
"But what if he-"  
"Make an 'R'."  
With warm hands he put the knitting away, and made her stand. Then, as smoothly as possible, which meant not at all, he sat down in the chair she'd been sitting in, and put her in his lap. She twisted a little, about to complain about her weight, how she was going to crush his knees or something. But The Look made her not bother. Instead, she rested her head against his shoulder, and went quite.  
The soft crackling and popping of the fire filled the room along with their silence. Warmth seemed to almost sip out of the walls as Arthur stroke his wife's side with his hand, and wondered in a sleepy voice in his head, if he was dreaming. Softly, he kissed her head, and Molly smiled. Finding her ear in the midst of hair, he murmured with a smile on his face.  
"Besides, nobody's going to want to trade him anyway. For Merlin's sake Molly, that thing is maroon..."  
Molly gave up a small yelp and sat up, smacking him across the chest with the palm of her hand. But she laughed. Her entire face was laughing as she looked at his face, and he couldn't help but grin.  
"You have to admit that it was funny."  
"I will not."  
Molly looked at the man she had once agreed to marry, and stayed married to as long as she herself was alive. She had never regretted it. Leaning in, she put her lips to his mouth, and kissed him with a small sigh. Arthur's hand went up to the nape of her neck, and stroked it gently while kissing her back. To say that he loved her was too small a word. She had made him the happiest man that ever lived, he was sure of it. As the kiss deepened, he put his hand on her knee. Molly jerked back.  
"Arthur! Ginny's sleeping upstairs."  
"Yes. Sleeping. You and I are downstairs. Awake. And if you haven't noticed, I'm very much awake."  
Molly started blushing something terrible.  
"Dear God you're still like a teenager."  
Arthur grinned again, and hugged her tightly.  
"For the rest of your life my love."  
Molly shook her head, and kissed him again.  
"Fine. But..."  
She looked up at the mantle. Her children we're all grinning at her, all except Percy who was still looking rather serious. She smiled softly at that, as she admired the silver frame they had put him in. Little did she know that in the years that would follow that very frame would be moved to her own private bedroom drawer after George almost threw it across the living room in a rage.  
_"How can you still keep this up? After all he has done!"  
_George would roar. But that was in the future, as we're a lot of things. For the moment, Christmas was coming. She had jumpers to knit, food to cook, husbands to kiss. Molly put her arms tightly around Arthur's neck.  
"Not in front of the children. Let's go upstairs."  
He nodded, and as they left the living room, the fire put itself out. In the darkness, the pictures still moved, but much more silently know, as if they knew they weren't being watched.


End file.
